


Sweet Kisses

by IMAgentMI, PFLAgentYork (Legendaerie)



Series: Post-PFL RP AU [6]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: (Just a little bit), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, F/M, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Movie Night, Oral Sex, Sex, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/pseuds/PFLAgentYork
Summary: Movie night on a rainy evening, flavored by sugary treats. It leads about to what you'd expect.





	Sweet Kisses

Carolina stands by the living room window, watching the rain come down in buckets. It's a nearly impenetrable curtain of silver, vision reduced to barely two meters.  

Her eyes shine as she watches -she spent so long in space, and her only contact with precipitation was on missions and shore leave, and both times greatly unwanted.  To stand here in her own house, warm and dry with the soothing sounds of the rain on the roof and of York moving about in the kitchen behind her - it's luxurious. Blissful. 

“It’s perfect.”  She doesn't know if she is speaking to York or herself, she just knows it is completely true.

“Do you wanna go stand outside and make out in it instead?” he asks, finishing cleaning up after dinner. Soup and bread and day-after-Space-Halloween candy was a pretty satisfying end to a day, but he’d promised her Robin Hood on the TV. “Movie can wait.”

She pauses, genuinely weighing the idea in her head.  “If it was warmer.” She turns, smiling delightedly. “That does sound brilliant though.  Kissing, clutching at you in the rain, peeling your clothes off…”

Carolina approaches him, taking their soup bowls out of York's hands and putting them on the counter. She slides into his arms instead, smiling wider as she zeroes in on his mouth. “But making out is definitely on the table.”

“That so?” He eases her backwards, coaxes her to sit on the freshly cleared dinner table and starts to kiss along her jawline. “This too literal for you?”

“Not at all.”  Carolina tilts her head, relaxing under York's attention.  “Though to be fair, you are the one sweet enough to be dessert.”  She half moans, half hums with contentment. 

“No, we have four pounds of candy for that, my love,” he reminds her, picks her up and carries her to the living room. A bowl of wrapped treats is there waiting for them on the coffee table, and he settles her down onto the couch with care. “Now let’s pretend to watch this movie while we binge on sugar and kiss like the stupid Hollywood ideal teenagers we never got to be.”

“Candy and kissing - my perfect retirement.”  Carolina catches hold of York's shirt and pulls him in, until he's close enough for her to wrap her legs around his waist. “At least if I get confused and nibble on you, you probably won't mind.”

York settles on top of her, weight on his elbows as they trade more tender kisses, warmed by the heat of her thighs on each side of his hips. “You don’t have the excuse of poor vision, but lucky for you I  _ like  _ it when you sink your teeth into me.”

He spares just enough time to turn on the TV and pull the bowl into easy reach, tearing open the thin paper of a fruit chew with one canine and dropping the wrapper on the floor. “Now,” he chews, “isn’t cherry your favorite?”

“Hey!”  Carolina hauls him in the rest of the way to kiss him deeply, first chasing the flavour, then the candy itself. She sweeps her tongue through his mouth, one hand getting a firm grip in his hair to keep him from escaping. Whether she wins it from him or he lets her have it, it’s hard to tell, but when they pull away for air she is chewing with triumph in her features.

“God, I love you,” he marvels, taking in the flickering shadows on her face from the light of the TV as the movie begins. The compressed audio is soothing, comforting - if he ignores the subtle differences in the gravity and atmosphere he can almost pretend that they’re on Old Earth, living like ordinary people. 

He rubs his thumb along the side of her cheek, completely content before the need to cause mischief seizes him again. “Now, share,” he warns her with a wicked grin, ducking back down to kiss her thoroughly.

She gives a muffled squeal as his tongue enters her mouth, but returns his kiss with equal heat. Carolina finally pulls back and realizes she no longer has the candy, but whether York stole it back or she swallowed it while distracted, she can't tell. She smooths her hand over his hair, grinning and half drunk with love. “I like this game.”

“Good. On to the next flavor then.” He feels out a piece between kisses, drops it a few times in his haste. Chocolate, with a little bit of crunch to it - York holds the piece between his teeth and offers it to her.

Carolina takes it in her teeth with a smile, then backs off for a second. “You gonna tell me what this one is?  Or do i have to guess?”

“... Guess?” he manages around the chocolate. To be honest, he has no idea what the little bumps under the surface of the chocolate are, and he just hope it’s not something disgusting. It’d be his luck that this place liked putting insects in their candy.

Carolina takes it back in her teeth again and with a growl, bites through. She chews thoughtfully, sucking at the chocolate trying to puzzle out the tiny crispy bits. “Like...rice  krispies. What kind of chocolates were made with those? A few, I thought.”  She looks him in the eye, scrunching up her face in thought. “Crrrrrrrrrunch bar?”

“Sure,” York agrees, tossing his head back like a bird to tilt the candy into his mouth properly. It’s good stuff, all smooth and creamy with just that bit of starch in the crunch. “Your prize is more kisses.”

“Oooo…” Carolina moves in for the promised kiss, once again searching York's mouth for any remaining chocolate. “You know, had kisses from you been the prize for staying atop the leaderboard, I would have worked twice as hard. Of course, so would’ve everyone else.”  She winks to show she's joking, and pulls him in once more for a much lazier slow kiss. 

“Except for South. She would have used the opportunity to get that close to punch me in the face.” York puts a little more of his weight on her, then shifts so he’s between the back of the couch and her. Harder to reach the candy now, but now he can dangle a package of Skittles above her like grapes above a lounging queen. “I've only ever wanted to kiss  _ you _ , anyway.”

“Good. Because I would have destroyed all challengers.  You are  _ mine.”   _ Carolina watches the Skittles bag above her. “I know it's too early to think this far ahead, but do you think that this planet has mistletoe?” She tilts her head and lunges up to grab the package with her teeth, pulling it down toward herself. The paper tears, dropping a couple candies to bounce off her nose and lips and she turns her face away with a swear.  “Shit. Don't know what I was expecting. That was a dumb move.”

Her possessive tone makes his pulse race. “Little bit, yeah,” he agrees, voice and pants a little tight, dropping the wrapper on her stomach to pluck the ones he can reach off the cushions before they disappear into the gaps. “But statistically you gotta make dumb moves sometimes.”

York crunches the candies in his mouth, wincing as lime clashes with chocolate in his mouth.

Carolina laughs, watching him. “Judging by your face, that was a dumb move too. Maybe I’ll pass on trying to steal that one from you.”

“Your loss,” he mumbles, fumbling for all the Skittles he can reach. “They’re delicious as soon as you get past that first bit of weird.”

On screen, a Robin Hood in disguise is approaching Prince John’s royal coach but York tunes it out, too busy trying to find more chocolate by touch. His arm keeps pressing her breasts and it’s distracting to lean into her relaxed body. She’s finally starting to lose the hard edges from their lean, harried months on the run, putting on a couple healthy pounds of muscle and fat. Hopefully this means she’s healing all over.

The candy isn't exactly nutritious, but it heals his soul. York hides a smile as he keeps rustling through the bowl, pretending not to find anything as he squishes next to her, bicep rubbing the underside of her breast.

Carolina gives him a smile and a sideways look.  “You’re not fooling anyone you know.  If you want to play with my breasts, you can just go ahead. You know I don’t mind.  In fact,” she twists her head over to kiss him on the chin, “I love it. I might insist.”

“I am the definition of subtle,” he insists, nuzzling her shoulder. “They’re just in the way. Have to work around them, you know? It takes finesse.”

Even as he speaks, he’s stroking her along her side, up and down over and over.

“Subtle. Right.” Carolina slides an arm behind him, pulling him closer, tight against her. With her other hand, she tilts his face to hers. “Luckily, I'm not.”  She crushes her mouth to his, turning and placing her knee over his thigh.  

His breath catches in his throat and he wraps his arms around her in turn, kissing back with fervor. “Love you-- like this,” he manages between kisses, hand on her jaw mirroring hers on his and the other between them, kneading her breast as she’d suggested. “Sweeter than anything-- but with a bite too.” 

“You want me to bite, York?” Carolina trails her lips to his ear, dropping her house to a rough whisper. “Where would you like me to bite?” She takes his earlobe in her teeth, nibbling gently as she presses her body against him.

“Anywhere,” he gasps, hand trapped between their bodies. “Everywhere.”

“God, you are so easy.” Carolina pulls back to grin at him.  “I love it.  I love watching you fall to pieces at a kiss, at a touch.  I love how completely you are mine. And,” she adds, reaching to the side to snag a chocolate from the bowl, “I love this movie.”  She kisses his nose, grins widely and snuggles against him as she turns back to the screen. 

York makes an agonized, tea-kettle noise as she not-so-subtly rubs against his half-hard cock. “If you’re a candy, you’re sour skittles for sure,” he gripes, reaching over her for more candy and gently nipping the back of her neck.

Carolina inhales sharply at the touch of his teeth, but when she speaks, her voice is still casual and teasing.  “I definitely make your mouth water. And your mouth definitely puckers up for me.”

“You’ve yet to rub my tongue raw, however,” he teases, tearing open the next piece of candy with the aid of his teeth. “We should work on that. And for the record? Sour Skittles are my favorite.”

A comfortable silence stretches between them as York’s attention is caught by the film. Not all of it, of course, not when Carolina is so close and keeps shifting her hips every once in a while under the guise of trying to find a way to stretch out perfectly on the stout couch.

So after several minutes, the hand that had been resting on her hipbone slides towards her navel, fingers dipping under her waistband.

“You know,” he says, casually as if discussing the weather, “I could finger you if you wanted. Wouldn't even have to roll over. Just…” York inches his fingertips down, close enough to just brush some of the thick dark curls down there, “like this.”

Carolina almost manages to stifle her moan, but not quickly enough to avoid his notice. “You could,” she says, in an almost bored tone of voice that is complete spoiled by the way she shifts under his hand, as though inviting more touches.  She keep her eyes on the screen but licks her lips, apparently unaware as she does so.

“But you’re such a fan of this movie,” he continues, stroking the inside of her hipbone. “So I shouldn’t distract you. Pass me a starburst?”

She doesn't sigh.  She deliberately doesn't sigh. And she doesn't thrust a piece of candy at him with a little more roughness than absolutely necessary. She stays completely calm, digs the nails of one hand into her palm and turns her attention back to the movie.

York snickers behind her and pops the candy in his mouth, chewing on the soft taffy. His hand inches a little lower, thumb stroking the place her thigh meets her hip and fingers spreading to just brush the curve of her ass. “Sour Skittles,” he reminds her, nibbling on the back of her neck again.

She doesn’t even attempt to hide this moan, nor the needy way she arches against him, practically begging for more.  She twists her head around, exposing her neck in what she knows is a pitiful display, but even teasing, he feels so good.

He licks up the side of her neck and starts to suck a hickey there as he reaches down the front of her pants and strokes around her clit, gentle and infuriating.

“What's your favorite candy, Carolina?” York asks, pulling his mouth off her skin with a wet pop.

Even with her eyes half closed and mind distracted, she doesn’t hesitate.  Carolina reaches behind her to gently grind her palm against his dick, feeling it firm against her hand.  “My favourite candy is a half-melted York.”

“Didn't think-- you liked me soft--” he rasps, shamelessly pressing against her as his breath catches. “But you’re so fucking hot I can’t help but fall to pieces.”

With a curl of his fingers, he presses his palm against her pubic bone and breaches her with one digit.

Carolina gasps, bucks against him, trying to take him deeper. “Fuck,”she pants, losing her cool completely. “Fuck me, York. God  _ damn _ it, I need you so badly it  _ hurts _ .”  For a moment she abandons her attempt to fuck herself on his fingers, and instead grinds her ass against him, trying to tempt him on.  

“Need condoms,” he reminds her, “and then-- you couldn’t watch the movie. Unless I--” York groans and buries that idea for later, later, and he moves against her in fluid rolls of his hips. “God, you’re wet already.”

Carolina groans. “We just got a metric fuckton of condoms. I thought I scattered them across the whole goddamn house.  Are we really more than an arm’s length from one?  I will hang them from the fucking ceiling or glue one to your forehead if I must.”  She massages her palm against his cock, feeling it twitch against her even through his clothes. “I  _ need _ you, York.  I want you to fucking  _ mount _ me. God--” she pulls her hand away and snatches a handful of his shirt instead, “I want to rip you apart with my  _ teeth _ .”

The sound he makes is downright shameful as he clutches her to him, sinking his teeth into her shoulder and groaning as he ruts against her. “Want to-- stand behind the couch and I-- could bend you over the back and fuck you standing. If you can stand,” York wheezes, “if I can-- let you go long enough to grab a condom--”

“If you don’t let me go and get moving, I will  _ throw _ you all the way to the bedroom.” It isn’t a threat, just pure need talking, and she knows that he knows it.  Then she freezes, and something in her face changes.  “No, let me. I’ll get them. Stay here.”

York eases his hand out of her pants, picking himself up and making sure she sees him suck the wetness off his fingers before she hurries to the bedroom. The rain is getting louder outside, crisp and real against the compressed cheerful music of the film, and he’s so hard it's difficult to not touch himself while he waits.

Carolina pauses as she appears back into the living room, leaning against the entranceway and crossing her ankles so he will notice that she’s now wearing her pair of black heels. When she’s sure she has his attention, she strides over to him with an extra swing of her hips, the condoms in one hand, and pulls him to her with the other.  Her kiss is sloppy and as wet as she is, and when she pulls away, his entire mouth glistens.  “You can decide how much you want to strip us down. I know you like to fuck with clothes on, but I’m so wet I’ll probably make a mess of anything you’re wearing.  But then again, in a few minutes I’m hoping that I can wear your mess… so maybe it’ll even out a bit.  Whatever you like.”

“Shirts on. Pants off. Where--” he swallows, distracted by the lingering taste of chocolate in her mouth. “Where do you want me? On the couch?”

“You mentioned behind the couch.  You talked about bending me over the back. Fucking while standing.”  She leans close until their lips brush.  “Let’s see how long you last until your legs give way.”

“God  _ damn _ ,” he breathes, scrambling off the couch and over to her. “Yes.” Dropping to his knees, he yanks her pants down; for a moment he’s distracted, previous plans derailed, and he promptly buries his face between her legs, sucking on her clit.

Carolina folds nearly in half, clutching at his back as she fights for breath.  “So… you make it about two and a half seconds.”  She pants into his hair, trying to keep control. “We’ve gotta work on your end-- your -- fuck, York.. . _ yes….” _

“You mocking my stamina?” he rasps, replacing his mouth with two fingers, light consistent strokes as he looks up at her silhouette against the glow of the TV. “Because of the two of us, you’re the one who’s melting.”

“You couldn’t-- even make it to-- to the couch. We’re just both-- wrecking each other.”  Carolina fights to keep herself upright, to not just succumb and tumble to the floor with him for hard rough sex and all the carpet burn that would follow.  “Please York, I really --” clutching at him barely keeps her on her feet “--really want you to have me from behind, over the couch. I want to hear you swearing in my ear as you fuck me.  I want you to fall to pieces and pin me there.  Goddammit York, I need you.”

He surges up to kiss her at that, heart hammering in his chest. To be needed, to be wanted, to be hers - all are things he craves. He takes the condom she hands him, both of them struggling to take off his pants and underwear between kisses, as the movie chatters on in the background.

“T-turn around for me?” York chokes, rolling the condom on his achingly hard dick. It occurs to him he’s going to have to get used to wearing them, with the amount of sex they typically have, once Carolina’s body has healed and she’s fertile again. No way she’d go back on the pill - no way he’d want her to - and they’re not having that many children. He already misses the raw intimacy of feeling her bare against him, but paradise has to have a price and he will pay it every time.

Carolina moves into position, standing behind the couch.  She keeps about a foot away, bending at the waist to lean over, the angle even greater due to the heels, and rest on her folded arms on the back of the couch, giving him both access and room to drape over her comfortably without forcing the air out of her lungs. “I’m ready for you.”

“Fuck, you are, aren't you?” he stutters, nonsensically, as he steps behind her and runs his hand up her spine. “God damn, do you have any idea how-- how sexy you are? How beautiful you are?”

For once, he doesn't wait to tease her with the head of his cock, just pushes in with his fingers splayed across her lower back and bites his lip so hard he swears he tastes blood. “How-- how--” and the rest of his words are lost in a breathless moan as he starts to move, the sharp movements of his hips in contrast to the gentle way he strokes her back.

Carolina turns her head to respond, but as York pushes into her, the words catch in her throat. She is wet enough to give little resistance, and this angle always lets him in deep - so much, so deep, so fast it nearly drops her legs out from under her. The sound that is forced out of her finally is both needy and feral, demanding more. She reaches back to grab a handful of his shirt, desperate to be even closer, take him deeper.

It feels like he just dissolves inside of her, his back arching as he presses his mouth against the back of her neck, swearing inarticulately as he buries himself to the hilt inside her over and over again. The salt of her sweat is the perfect compliment to an evening of sugar, and the way she moans under him is music to his ears. She feels so good under him he’s losing his mind, setting a brutal pace. The couch shudders under the impact each time Carolina’s thighs knock into it, and the hand that cups her breast is tender in apology.

“Fuck, I love you, love you, love you, my sour skittle,” he chants, voice cracking with need.

She moves her arm up blindly, her hand cupping the back of York’s head as he thrusts into her, crooning his name over and over.  

“York...York-- _ god _ , I love you. I love this. York -- I want to give you-- every day-- always…  _ York _ …”

He changes his angle slightly and she gasps, bending lower over the couch trying to catch her breath.  “Do you have any-- idea how you make me feel? How good this is?  You delicious-- sexy bastard…”

He’s running out of words as he tries to pinch her nipple through two layers of fabric, digging the nails of his other hand into her hip as he yanks her back against him, over and over. The wet slap of their movement is almost loud enough to drown out the TV, and as York nuzzles her shoulder, the winning arrow thuds into the target.

“Keep telling me,” he rasps in her ear, “how much you want this. How much you  _ need _ this. Keep telling me just how you like it,” and he brushes her hair to one side so he can sink the tip of one canine into her nape, “until you can’t talk anymore. I wanna fuck you  _ speechless _ .”

Carolina gasps, both from his hand on her breast and the touch of his tooth to her skin.  “You know how much I like it - you can  _ feel _ how much I like it. I am dripping for you York. I'm begging for more, every way I can.”

Carolina brings her hand forward to clutch his against her breast, encouraging him. “And I need this. I need you. I need to feel your same hunger, that love and lust that tears at me, that nothing will satisfy but you, us.”

She's breathless with pleasure, dizzy with it, but presses on best she can. “You are everything I need York.  You're the only thing I want.  Your body, your cock, your smile, your laugh.”  Her words catch in her throat and it takes a real effort to force them out. “I want your seed. I need you to plant yourself in me. I want a part of you in me that doesn't leave, that will grow like the garden you are so proud of. I want--” Carolina cuts off with a moan twisting around almost painfully to catch him by the hair, hauling him in for a desperate kiss.

If it hadn’t been for the kiss, York would have come on the spot; but with the kiss he’s thrown off balance, couch scooting with a rumble of protest, and he barely stops both of them from tumbling over the furniture. Carolina falls into her back, his hands on her waist easing her down, and she’s barely stopped bouncing on the cushions when York is on top of her, kissing her frantically.

“I'm here, I'm here, I'm here, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he babbles, wrestling her legs around him so they’re on each side of his hips, one shoe still on. “I've got you, I've got you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--”

Carolina locks eyes with him. “I've got you, too.”  Quickly she reaches between them, slides off his condom, and drops it to the floor. If they hadn't been so close she might have missed the soft gasp that escapes his lips, they way his eyes widen and then dilate in the glow from the television, so tender in his need seconds before they kiss. 

“ _ Carolina _ ,” and the weight of her name and the love behind it feels as though it could crush him as he eases into her, slow and gentle this time. It's only been a couple weeks since they started using condoms but he’s missed the intimacy of this so badly he has to savor every centimeter, and it takes him a century to bottom out again.

“It’s okay…” Carolina fights the urge to close her eyes, to press her head back to the couch as York pushes into her. Instead, once he is fully settled, she reaches for him. It only takes the touch of her fingertips to his cheek to draw him down to her, to bring him close enough for her to wrap her arms around his neck, pull his body down to her. “It's okay, York.” Carolina nuzzles against him, cheek to cheek and savours the rush of heat in her body as his lips seek out hers.  “I love you.”

“I-- I love you too--” it's hard to think enough to speak as he starts to move, glacier-slow, his words slurring into a low groan as he pulls back so far he nearly slips out of her. Eases back in just as slow, just as deep, and rolls his hips against her when he’s fully sheathed. It's as close as York gets to cruel, this greediness, and he kisses her so sweet and deep he swallows her moan whole.

Carolina brings her legs all the way up so her thighs are against the sides of York’s ribs, ankles crossed at the small of his back, pulling him tighter against her, locking him to her.  “Mine,” she half-whispers, half-croons in his ear.  Her hips return the favour, start a slow teasing rhythm.  “Mine, mine, mine…”

“Yours, yours, yours,” he moans in response, pressing his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. The way his whole body shakes has little to do with the chill of the rainy autumn evening as the sweat beading on his skin starts to run down his back. “Everything I have, and am, and-- and then some.”

“And I’m yours,” Carolina whispers back, lips against his before sliding down his cheek to kiss along his jaw. She stops, breathing hot against his skin, before clutching him to her once again. “Fuck me, York. The way we both miss.”

Slowly, he starts to pick up the pace, falling into the rhythm they both need to climax; one hand anchored on the couch arm behind Carolina’s head, the other pressing down below her navel, York holds her gaze as he moves with her. He can feel her body trying to draw him in like this, imagines he can almost feel his cock moving inside her, and he strokes her clit with a trembling thumb.

“You feel so-- so fucking good, Carolina, so good it's beyond words-- love this,  _ shit _ , I missed this-- gettin’ to feel all of you so hot and slick and tight against me-- feelin’ your heart beat just like mine--”

“Missed this too--” Carolina’s thoughts short out as York's thumb lights up every nerve in her clit, and her legs around his waist join the rhythm, trying to help him even deeper.  She bares her teeth, pressing them against his shoulder, but doesn't bite - she comes to her senses enough to stay gentle, and begins sucking a hickey into his skin instead.

“Could-- I could do this for hours-- for lifetimes,” he rasps, pressing slow sucking kisses along her jawline, careful not to pull away from her mouth with his movements. “And we can-- so take your time, my love.”

The hand above her head searches for hers, twines their fingers together and presses the back of her hand against the cushions.

“Hours…” she repeats back to him, soft and nearly overwhelmed by his tenderness.  “Just with you.”  It knocks her dizzy once again, just how much she loves him.  How much she loves all his little gestures, the ways that he takes the simplest, must mundane moments, turns them into revelations.  And laying there, she realizes that this is what she would choose - if they ever do conceive, she’d love it to be a moment like this.  Unrestrained, unplanned, just joyfully together.  

Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, but unseen, she smiles into York’s shoulder. When the time is right, she fully intends to drain him completely dry.  They’ll be having sex far too often for them to pick out which particular romp did the trick, and the mere thought of it coaxes a peal of delighted laughter from her.  When York pulls back in surprise, she reins him back in again for a smothering kiss.

“You having fun?” he teases, grinning against her mouth.

“You have no idea.”  She nips at his bottom lip with a playful growl and squeezes around him with her free arm and legs. That particular trick makes him shudder, and the next thrust into her is a little harder, a little sharper, and she embraces him in response.

The movie is nearly over; on screen Robin Hood’s friends are mourning his supposed death and the rain is picking up, pattering against the windows as it is blown by the wind. York slides his hand under her clothes to tweak her nipple and grins when he feels Carolina tighten around him. Natural response or retaliation, either makes him pleased.

“So sweet,” he repeats from before, pushing her shirt up to her neck and gently biting her nipple through her bra. “But at least tasting you-- burns calories, huh?”

“Speak for yourself,” Carolina’s tone is teasing, but the way she reaches out to cup his face is heartbreakingly tender. “I look forward to the day you make me start to gain weight.” She takes his hand, guides it down to her lower stomach to make her words clearer.

It takes a moment for her words to sink in, but when they do the effect is devastating - like she’d replaced his blood with gasoline and lit a match. Need hits him like a bullet to the heart, blossoming fire through his body, and there’s not enough breath in his lungs to scream as he comes. 

Carolina gathers him in, pulling him down against her chest, his breath hard and hot on her skin.  She strokes his hair, pulling the locks between her fingers and twists her head to kiss his temple before settling again.  “I thought that might do the trick.” 

The low, continuous moan he makes feels torn out of him as he presses his face against her shoulder, entire body shaking as he empties himself into her. He can barely breathe, so completely caught off guard by his own orgasm. Trembling fingers with a mind of their own stroke blindly at her lower stomach, eventually finding her clit as his spasms start to slow.

Even as she stifles a moan, Carolina turns a smug smile down on York. “I can't wait until we are actually trying. I hope you can survive what I’m going to put you through, if the mere mention is enough to reduce you to this.”  

“Told you,” he slurs, drunk on affection, “I’ll fill you up so much you can’t help but get pregnant. ‘s what you want, right? So… so you gotta come for me, okay? Tell me what… else you need. I promised hours.”

Not that he can stay hard for much longer - or stay awake, for that matter.

“Even if I gotta use the strap on with you.”

“Mmm, that's okay- I like you better.”  Carolina hums into his hair then giggles silently as it tickles her nose.  “Your cock. Your fingers.  Your lips.”  She leans forward and licks the side of York's face.  “Your tongue.  Mmm… that sounds nice, actually. Or are you too tired?”

“Could eat you out. Got a nice cream filling to you now, huh?” he grins, easing out.

“Remind me to eat a chocolate eclairs in front of you, one day.”  Carolina chirps back. “We can compare notes.  Also, try not to be too neat about it.  I love seeing you with come on your face, my filthy boy.” 

York lifts himself up on shaking arms, backing up until he’s crowded on the other end of the couch, one leg on the ground. He holds her gaze when he lowers his mouth to her dripping sex, circles his tongue around her entrance with a moan. He does want to draw it out, but she got him good. Time to return the favor.

Gripping her hips with a bruising intensity, York presses his mouth against her and starts to fuck her with his tongue at a brutal, efficient pace, nose rubbing at her clit. 

“You wonderful bastard...” Carolina chokes on a gasp and reaches down to cup her hand over York’s head. It takes everything she has not to force him to her own pace, and she finally lays back again, stretching her arms  over her head to grip the armrest.  She struggles to even out her breathing and gives up with a groan than nearly shakes the couch.  “Fuck me, York.  You gorgeous… my god… don't stop…”

He keeps his pace and manages to quicken it, stroking around her clit with his thumb until she comes, throwing her head back and screaming his name so loudly his ears ring. She shakes around him, losing control and grabbing his hair with both hands, forcing his face harder against her as she tries to ride his mouth. Eventually, the waves of pleasure start to ebb and she lets him go, her hands dropping limply to rest on her thighs.

Obedient to the last, York raises his head and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, dripping saliva and come onto her skin.  Carolina looks up, and even as drained as she is, the sight makes her stomach swoop.  “Up. For the love of god York, get up here and kiss me.  I want to taste you.   _ Fuck _ , that's hot.”

He crawls back up her body, movement slow, and lets her ravage his mouth. Like she had with the candy earlier, Carolina stakes her claim on him

York rolls them onto their sides and drops onto the cushions, completely drained as their kisses slow. One arm over her hip and the other pillowing her head, he lets his eyes close, content that he’s hemmed her in as much as possible. Not even the chill of the rain can get to her now, when she’s sandwiched between the upholstery and his body. He’s pleased in the basest sense, and the TV is finally silent behind them.

It’s a strange sort of comfort, confined as she is.  The Old Carolina would have been restless and tense, ready to free herself in an instant, and probably send York flying off the couch as she did so.

Not anymore. Instead, she manages to bring up her free hand up to run her fingers over his cheekbone, watching him so relaxed and still, trying to gauge how quickly he might be falling asleep. She brushes her lips against his, butterfly light, and settles back again, at peace.  “Moments like this, I forget where we came from. I forget what we were.  It's like this is all I have ever known.  There was nothing before you - and now you are my entire world. It shouldn’t be possible to be this happy.”  Another kiss, even softer than the last.  

His thumb brushes her hip in exhausted response as she pulls a blanket off the floor and covers them, and his lips quirk up in a smile.

“We’ve earned it,” he murmurs, eyes still closed, and with a contented hum slips into unconsciousness.

Carolina watches him drift away, her own eyes heavy. 

“You earned it.”  Even asleep, York turns his head to follow the touch of her fingers as she continues to stroke his cheek, gentle and tender. “This was all you. And I am so grateful.” 

Laying her hand down to rest against his neck, Carolina keeps her eyes on York until they shut of their own accord.  She falls into sweet dreams of golden mornings, endless as the rock-flecked grassy plains beyond their driveway, and knows she will wake to a day even brighter.


End file.
